Cursed From The Inside Out
by wherethewindmaygo
Summary: When you're the key piece for a Dark Lord's evil plans, how can you even try to stop it? Marked for death and a weapon of mass destruction, it seems Hermione Granger has no chance of survival at all.


~~All credits go to JK Rowling~~

Hermione glanced over herself in the mirror.

Clean white shirt, pressed down at the cuffs, the collar, and the back? _Check._

Knee high socks, warm, but not too warm? _Check._

Green and silver tie with perfect symmetry? _Nearly..._

She re-positioned her tie, but it still didn't feel right and she didn't know why. Maybe it was the length? But she had checked, she had the right length, and the width, it was the perfect tie.

… Maybe that's what was wrong? Perfection wasn't everything; she had learnt from some Gryffindors in first year.

But alas, Hermione Granger strived for perfection. Perfection was what she aimed for and nothing less. To her perfection was everything, even if some Gryffindors may have proved it wasn't... She ran her hands through her slightly tamed down curls before shaking her head, trying to shake the confusion and irritation of the tie out of her head. Smoothing down her pleated skirt she went to the door to leave but someone was blocking her path.

"_Hermiii_." It was Pansy, dear God. Not again. The girl was like a bad taste that stayed with Hermione three quarters of the year.

"It's Her-my-_on-e_, Pans. Not "Herm-_iiiii_." She said dragging out the last word with a hint of disgust, although for the previous five years Pansy hadn't taken notice of her complaints.

"Oh, Hermi, stop being such a prude, we all know you have your formalities, but really..." She paused in thought for a moment, "I'm your friend, right?"

Hermione gave somewhat of a nod.

"Well then, I have nickname rights."

"So friendships have rights now...?" Hermione asked narrowing her eyes a little.

"Slytherins' do." Pansy shot back defensively which shut Hermione up; for the sole sake of the point that she couldn't be bothered arguing. She was hungry and in the mood for some breakfast; and maybe, maybe just perhaps, Pansy was correct.

"Breakfast?" The said girl asked her making her bed.

"Already had it." Hermione lied. She'd rather have no breakfast than have to eat it with the company of Pansy.

"Well... company?"

"No time."

"Fine." Sometimes, Pansy just got Hermione into a state for no other reason than the fact that she existed, and most of her friends were like that, they unintentionally wound her up. She figured it would be less irritating if her friends actually knew what they were doing with their lives; but as far as she could calculate they had no clue. Finally, Pansy left to go and find someone about a potion she needed or something, Hermione wasn't really paying attention to what the other girl had said. She waited until she could see Pansy on the grounds before heading down to the Great Hall anyway for some business. She half-stomped partly because of her shoes, and partly because of her mood. Draco owed her some galleons for their bet about SPEW. He said no-one would side with her, and he was wrong. So that was forty galleons extra in her pocket from someone she could stand, barely.

Once there she found it a little full, a couple of Gryffindors spotted about their long table, masses of Ravenclaw seniors, she figured that there was an exam or something of the sort on; and then some Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. Sitting down on one side she was across from Draco, she made her presence known by taking a few slices of toast, "Malfoy, you owe me forty."

"Oh, speak of the devil, here you are. Crabbe was wanting to know if you could get the elves to make more cakes for him, especially since his father won't allow him to speak to those... creatures." Draco, although a little sweetened by Hermione over the years, still couldn't stand the house elves, after what had happened with Dobby after all.

"They're not slaves." She muttered, looking around for some toast, she had already called in countless favors this month and it was causing the elves a good amount of stress, "No more favors this month, the elves will be worked too hard, and your requests need to be in line with SPEW's policy."

"SPEW has a policy?" Draco spat out.

"Forty galleons, please." Hermione said, smirking at the realization on Draco's face.

"This is a bloody joke, do you hear that Granger? A bloody joke, I'll make sure my father hears about this!"

"Your father has already heard about this." Hermione stated casually.

"Explain." Draco demanded.

"Dumbledore thought it would be best to get the opinion of your father, after all, he is an important part in society of... wizards."

"And?"

"It didn't disagree with the Ministry's policies and he had no other option but to accept. I even got a few sponsors, can you believe it?"

Draco just bit his lip, "I'll give the galleons to you later in the common room. Come on, Crabbe."

"What about my cakes?" Crabbe moaned gruffly. Draco looked expectantly at Hermione for some sort of answer.

"You're not getting any cakes, Crabbe."

"I asked nicely though!" He shouted in outrage.

"I'm declining nicely though. It's called disagreement." Hermione muttered again not even bothering to look up.

"Now, you look here, Granger, you may think you're all high-"

"-And mighty and a know-it-all who doesn't know what's coming to her in the future, because my father will not let you have anything to do with the Ministry and then you'll become poor and live on the streets and then eventually die in Knockturn Alley and will be laughed at for eternity and I will be forever amazing." She imitated in his voice earning a few sniggers from those who were brave enough. Draco did hold a sense of blue blood at the Slytherin table, "Malfoy, I've heard it all before, say something mildly interesting next time and you might get a reaction from me."

Draco opened his mouth to say something but his brain was delayed for a second or two. "Come on Crabbe, we can just get them another way."

"Be legal!" Hermione called out cheerily as they left, earning a few more sniggers. Unlike some of her fellow Slytherins and friends, she had respect for the house elves, and made it known. She carried on eating her toast chatting happily to the others until the bell went, although she was still agitated about her tie.

_A couple of hours later:_

"My Lord..." Bellatrix's words curled around her tongue like a glove would on a mannequin; fake but oddly attractive. Voldemort gave a nod of his head so she continued, "Don't you think it would be wise if we... held the curse a little longer. According to young Draco, she's losing her edge a little. And-" She glanced over at Lucius with a devilish smirk, "So seems he."

Voldemort raised his non-existent eyebrow in curiosity and Lucius refrained from bashing his hand on his Dark Lord's table. After all, it was made from the finest of oaks mixed in with the blood of muggleborns.

Voldemort stroked his hand across the top of the table admiring its materials. "And why would you say this?"

"I heard she started a campaign for the welfare of house elves... SPEW." Bellatrix spat out in disgust, "No honorary Slytherin would do such a thing... And here's the interesting part." She darted her eyes towards Lucius, "_Darling _Lucius over here knew about it and didn't tell you, what a faithful servant he is..."

The news that Bellatrix was hoping to cause a little bit of pain did nothing; Lucius started protesting but Voldemort quietened him.

"Interesting, but it doesn't matter. Maybe it would be good to let her Gryffindor blood to get in the way. See what havoc she can create. She's just a catalyst after all, once she dies we know it's time."

"Time for what?" Lucius asked.

"My return... Lucius, you have to keep up, otherwise Nagini may need a dessert." Voldemort replied not even looking at the man, "A bit of rage caused by the truth, a broken dead girl dropped from the roof..." Voldemort mused twirling his wand between his bony fingers.

The room was silent. Bellatrix was smiling like a Cheshire cat and Lucius was concentrating on the table for fear of a sudden death by the gigantic snake.

And then Voldemort laughed. A deep, cruel, murderous laugh.

He was back.


End file.
